


That's the trouble with us

by heygorgeous



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Elemental Magic, M/M, Slow Build, also they use phones, because who doesn't???????, like this is a specialised magic school for ice dancing, loosely based off hogwarts, magic academy au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-12 09:23:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9065722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heygorgeous/pseuds/heygorgeous
Summary: [AU - Elemental Magic] Viktor Nikiforov is a legend. That, anyone within a five mile radius of the porcelain demigod can tell; the fact that there’s a statue of the man smack in the middle of the institution’s courtyard goes to show exactly how deeply regarded he is. It’s just a little awkward, seeing as Viktor’s still, well, alive; his many achievements and breakthroughs in ice dancing, secondary Elements, and magical therapy may seem superfluous to the common man, but it’s what’s inspired the fusion of scientific, practical magic with the traditional aesthetical appreciation of wizardry. The man is a living legend, an urban myth, a collector of headlines and trophies and tokens of appreciation. This statue is nothing less.Enter Katsuki Yuuri, back as straight as a broom, fingers tightly anchored to the strap of his messenger bag. He’s sure there’s been some sort of mistake that his application got through, but the paper of acceptance is strangely durable and far too ancient to be some sort of joke.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god help ok so like i was thinking of hogwarts au but then i was like......... yo. what house would viktor nikiforov be in. and so i went to google etc. and i realise. why not have a specialised magic school,, but for FIGURE SKATING. i know i call it ice dancing but yknow. ok. im gonna shut up now.
> 
> also im sorry the name of the school is like. really. really. basic. help me

Viktor Nikiforov is a legend. That, anyone within a five mile radius of the porcelain demigod can tell; the fact that there’s a statue of the man smack in the middle of the institution’s courtyard goes to show exactly how deeply regarded he is. It’s just a little awkward, seeing as Viktor’s still, well, _alive_ ; his many achievements and breakthroughs in ice dancing, secondary Elements, and magical therapy may seem superfluous to the common man, but it’s what’s inspired the fusion of scientific, practical magic with the traditional aesthetical appreciation of wizardry. The man is a living legend, an urban myth, a collector of headlines and trophies and tokens of appreciation. This statue is nothing less.

Enter Katsuki Yuuri, back as straight as a broom, fingers tightly anchored to the strap of his messenger bag. He’s sure there’s been some sort of mistake that his application got through, but the paper of acceptance is strangely durable and far too ancient to be some sort of joke.  It’s not as if he’s got an affinity with Air, like Viktor has, or even Water; he’s strongly intertwined to the element of Earth, and _every_ _single_ _person_ thinks he should have gone ahead with architecture, or some sturdy subject.

But no. Here he is, looming in the Academy of Arcane Aesthetics, Detroit campus, majoring in a course of dance-therapy.  Something like that.

Exhaling slowly, he attempts to avoid eye contact with the marble totem in front of him, instead pulling out his phone.

 

_YOU_

(0812) Phichit, where re you?

(0812) *Are

 

Phichit’s reply is instantaneous:

_PHICHIT CHULANONT_

(0812) here!!

(0812) i mean

(0813) ok mayb 5 min

(0813) sozz

_YOU_

(0813) Alright.

 

Yuuri tries to focus on the battery percentage (a healthy 97%, which should last him till the end of the day), but finds his eyes trailing to the time with every crawling second. He’s still seventeen minutes too early for registration, and he’s reaping the regret that comes along with punctuality – the courtyard is starting to fill in, and Yuuri is rooted to the ground. It doesn’t help that Viktor’s statue is towering over him.

 

_PHICHIT CHULANONT_

(0813) r u k?????

(0813) ohh

(0814) its k

(0814) im otw alr :-))))))))))))

(0814) yo yo yuuri talk 2 me

 

Yuuri smiles at this.

 

_YOU_

(0815)  About?

 

_PHICHIT CHULANONT_

(0815) ummmmmmm

(0816) k so look right,, the MOST ridic thing

(0816) tldr like i was taking the met then

(0816) this dude, htis white boi, this Exotic Young lAd

(0816) he cmoes up to me,,, n is all like

(0817) ‘where r u from? china? u look very exotic” and im like bruh

(0817) brUHHHHH

 

_YOU_

(0817) Oh no.

(0817) Are you fine? Did he do anything?

 

_PHICHIT CHULANONT_

(0818) i mean,, ok ur hot but

(0818)  china?????? r u srs?????????? boi

(0818) so i said

(0818) btw im fine this isnt why im late

(0818) sozzz

(0819) so i said,,,

 

At this point, Phichit stops messaging. Yuuri holds his breath, fingers ghosting over the keypad, trying not to overthink the temporary pause in the messages. It could be a delay in the telecoms, or some server problem. Maybe Phichit’s battery’s gone flat. Maybe he walked into a pole, maybe –

 “Get out of the way, pig,” someone says gruffly from behind him.

Yuuri jumps, and swivels around to face a hooded figure. Yuuri’s hands are clammy, and he tightens his grip on his phone. The figure glares up at him from beneath his hood. He’s got a shock of long blonde hair, and a terribly scary air around him.  

“Wh- I’m sorry,” Yuuri says, and awkwardly stumbles back.

“Not you,” the hooded teen says. “ _You_.”

“There you go again, Yuri. So cold,” a voice, suspiciously soft and silky, says. “You’ve scared the poor man.”

Yuuri spins on his heels, and almost bumps into a warm, clothed chest. Wasn’t the statue just behind him-? He lets his eyes trail up the suit, and sees a very pale, very _un-statue_ human. Something in his chest tightens, and his fingers begin to tingle.

“Shut up, Viktor,” Yuri says, seethes, and marches off. “Stupid statue act, can’t believe Yakov lets you get away with that.”

“I, uh,” Yuuri manages to say.

“Oh,” there’s that voice again, coming from _the_ Viktor Nikiforov in front of him. “I’m sorry to have surprised you. It’s just a thing I do, to scare young Yuri.”

Oh god. He’s been loitering in front of Viktor Nikiforov for the past _nineteen_ minutes. Yuuri blusters something out incoherently, still unwilling to look up at the Russian legend. The man chuckles, and tucks a finger under Yuuri’s chin, pulling him up. And then there’s that smile – that 2012 Rostelecom Cup smile, a light teasing smirk and crinkly eyes – that makes Yuuri’s breath hitch.  Yuuri backs away, flinches at the contact, and Viktor _notices_.

“Oi! Viktor!” there’s Yuri again, storming back.

Viktor pays him no mind, choosing instead to channel his charm towards a very, very nervous Katsuki Yuuri. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I got your name?”

“It’s my first year here.” And then, at Viktor’s raised eyebrow, adds, “Katsuki Yuuri.”

There’s a short stab of silence as Viktor’s eyes narrow. Then he frowns, and Yuuri’s about to throw himself straight into the deepest circles of hell or retract whatever, wherever he went horribly wrong in this interaction (was it his name? Did he say it too fast? Is it a _bad_ name-?), when Viktor turns to face a catatonic Yuri.

“That’s not right,” Viktor mulls, and Yuuri is so ready to make amends, say his name’s whatever Viktor Nikiforov would prefer to hear, when,

“We can’t have two Yuris,” Viktor continues. “It’s confusing –”

“We have multiple Victors,” Yuri says. “In fact, in your year, we’ve already got five ‘Victor’s, so I don’t think that’s –”

That seems to spark a certain fire in Viktor’s eyes. “That’s it! You’ll be Yurio from now on!”

Yuri(o) blanches. “Nikiforov!”

“Yes, _Yurio_?” Viktor says, smiling pleasantly.  “Of course, Yuuri will remain as you are. Yuuri”

“I, uh, I don’t think there’s a need to,” Yuuri protests weakly, trying to ignore the way his toes curled as Viktor addressed him.

“Of course there’s a need to!” Viktor exclaims, and that seems to be the end of it. “It’ll be confusing if I have to address both Yuris at the same time, you know?”

Yuuri lets his head tilt to the side, eyes wide. Viktor seems to be making a huge mess out of a nobody he’s just met, and it’s not like he’s going to be talking to Yuuri again, ever – but then again, according to many fansites and magazine interviews, it’s been said that Viktor Nikiforov has the most dramatic personality, and enjoys torturing his friends.

“Why can’t _he_ be ‘Yurio’ then?” Yurio shouts. “You know what, fuck this, I’m not going to bother arguing with an idiot.”

For the second time, Yurio stomps off. Viktor sighs, and smiles (a 2014 BeWitched cover smile) at Yuuri. “That’s Yuri – _Yurio_ for you.”

“Ah, um,” Yuuri says eloquently. “Great.”

Viktor winks. “Well, I’d better be going after him. See you, Yuuri.”

“Yes,” Yuuri says. “See you. Viktor.”

Viktor’s gaze lingers for a moment, and then he’s off, coat swishing in the breeze. Yuuri’s still standing in the middle of the courtyard, dazed and fully flushed. He snaps out of it and takes a quick look around him – no one’s quite as shocked as he is at Viktor’s appearance. Perhaps he was imagining things? He shakes his head – his prescription’s gotten stronger, and besides, it’s never happened before. The feel of Viktor’s finger under his chin, however fleeting, just _is_.

Yuuri jumps when he feels his phone vibrate urgently in his pocket.  

_PHICHIT CHULANONT_

(0826) SORRY

(0826) SORRY I WAS WALKING

(0826) FORGOT TO TEXT BACK

(0826) PLS LOVE ME IM SOZ

 

_YOU_

(0827) It’s fine. Where are you now?

 

_PHICHIT CHULANONT_

(0827) UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

(0827) k so

(0827) i think im like near the gates

(0827) yah k wait guardpost

(0828) kk i see u

 

“YUURI!” Phichit yells, waving frantically.

Yuuri laughs, and allows his friend to envelop him in an embarrassing embrace. “It’s nice to see you too, Phichit.”

“Yes, but first. Selfie,” is the only explanation Yuuri gets before he is strategically maneuvered into a side hug such that the institution’s crest is visible beside them on camera. “And now, we run.”

They sprint across the courtyard, Phichit’s squeals of excitement obnoxiously loud.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PHICHIT CHULANONT
> 
> (1128) everything ok?????
> 
> (1128) also like
> 
> (1129) forgive me 4 bein basic af
> 
> (1129) but do u think white choc moc frapp is better or shld i try the pumpkin spice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i stg the only form of planning i have for this fic is:
> 
> "Specialised school for ice dancing – figure skating, ice magic.  
> Elemental magic – decides your talents, and most people tend to go into that area of specialisation  
> • if you’re an earth person, you usually go into fields like architecture, human and physical geog… (city planning, agriculture) (grounded, typically more sturdy)  
> • Air = weathering, flight-related, space, sound and light, anything to do with spatial stuff e.g. dance, theatre… (sensitive to space, graceful but also airy)  
> • Water = transport, human-medical (intuitive, gentle but firm)  
> • Fire = culinary arts, physiology and therapy-based medical stuff, (warmth, passion)
> 
> Katsuki Yuuri, Otabek share an affinity with Earth.  
> Yurio, JJ share an affinity with Fire.  
> Viktor, Minako, Seungil? share an affinity with Air.  
> Phichit, Chris share an affinity with Water."
> 
> like idk if that makes sense but basically: they're still in a magic au sort of thing, same universe as hogwarts, but a different school, something like college where they get to choose their majors and electives etc. and this academy specialises in ice magic (idk whats a fancy word for it but yes tldr) so ice is a secondary element, and you typically need mastery of at least two primary elements (fire, earth, air or water) in order to be able to master ice magic. which means that you'll have two courses- one in ice, and one outside of your primary element!! since you should have mastered control of your own primary element before tertiary education. no i totally did not come up w that on the spot ok but yes!!

“Yuuri,” Phichit says, and is instantly hushed. “ _Yuuri!_ ”

“Yes?” Yuuri whispers back, squaring his shoulders.

It’s a simple initiation ceremony – scratch that – procedure of sorts. There’s nothing too serious about this, except for a few ground rules and regulations; everything else, from course registration to campus traditions, are readily available online. Still, Yuuri figures that he’d like to observe a little decorum at this prestigious academy and its fancy opening ceremony.

“Where’re you staying at now,” Phichit says.

Yuuri attempts, “Can this wait?”

Phichit frowns. “Yuuri –”

He’s cut off by a sudden round of applause. Yuuri breathes a sigh of relief as Phichit leaves the matter for the time being, but stiffens back up; the stage lights up, and there’s the principal, Mdm Lilia Baranovskaya, in an elaborate fur coat. Compelled by her disdained look, everyone sits up straight, paying rapt attention.

“Good morning. I believe introductions should be in order; I’m Lilia Baranovskaya, principal of the Academy of Arcane Aesthetics. Congratulations on your acceptance. Applications should have already been processed, with a few exceptions.”

Yuuri looks back down at the blank screen of his phone.

“The Academy of Arcane Aesthetics is one that prides itself on tradition and creativity. While it is undeniable that the institution has produced many wizarding pioneers, we must stress that it is the rigour of routine, practice and self-improvement that has sustained our school throughout the years. Creation without courage or commitment is nothing.

“Now, I understand that many wizarding schools around the world would have a procedure of ‘sorting’, whereby each pupil will be inducted into a faculty. If you haven’t been living under a rock, you would have already asked for our WiFi password –”

“Shit,” Phichit says, a little too loudly.

Mdm Baranovskaya’s eyes seem to glimmer in amusement, though her lips remain pursed. “Language, Mr. Chulanont. Or rather, if you have your own resources, you should have already read through our official handbook and website. The Academy is modelled after a regular college – your schedules will be mailed to you electronically after the course registrations are settled by the end of the week. Consultations are available during office hours, and methods of assessment will vary from course to course.

“Now, I’ll be introducing the deans of each faculty…”

Yuuri takes a deep breath, and chokes. Phichit turns to him. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Yuuri says, and massages his ribs.

He looks up, and sees Yurio a few benches in front of them. Yuuri tentatively smiles, but it probably turns out looking like a creepy grin. Yurio starts, and turns back to the podium resolutely. Curiously, Yuuri tries to skim the room, looking for Viktor – certainly, he’s probably no longer studying here, but if he were in the courtyard earlier, surely…?

Phichit catches him looking around, and says, “What’re you looking for?”

Yuuri anchors himself to the chair – wishful thinking, obviously. “Nothing.”

Phichit nudges him. “You’re acting weird.”

“Later,” Yuuri says firmly.

Phichit shrugs, and Yuuri feels a stab of guilt for being impatient. He really, really shouldn’t have said that. Phichit was just being concerned. He doesn’t deserve this. Yuuri should apologise. Yuuri should say something, stop saying something – there’s something in his chest that seems to concave, seems to mould into itself. He can’t even look up at Phichit.

A hand covers his own:

“That’s Viktor Nikiforov,” Phichit breathes, stunned. “Oh my fucking god.”

Yuuri, still drowsy in his own panic, takes a moment to register Phichit’s words. He glances up, and lets his mouth hang. That’s Viktor Nikiforov at the podium, an award winning smile (2015 Grand Prix Final smile, teeth showing, head tilted to the side in a display of casual joy) flashing.

Viktor says, “Good morning everyone! I’m Viktor Nikiforov, acting-deputy-head of Dance. I’ll be working with Ms Okukawa to teach the course, Dance Therapy.”

Yuuri swears he fainted there and then.

* * *

 

“So, Viktor, he’s teaching you,” Phichit summarises the two-hour talk into a matter of five words. “How fucking awesome is that?”

“Um,” Yuuri says, still feeling hot. “Woah.”

Phichit waves  Yuuri’s less-than-enthusiastic response away. “Fucking awesome. I mean, it’s probably fate that the previous deputy-head of Dance suddenly decided to retire. Now they’ve got Viktor, and _you_ ’ve got Viktor.”

“Coincidence,” Yuuri breathes.

Phichit spins on his heels and pauses hesitantly in front of Yuuri. “Yuuri, you alright? You’re not… having an episode again or something… right? Do you need to get out of here?”

“I’m good,” Yuuri says. “I’m good.”

“Okay…” Phichit says.  “You need anything? Water?”

“No,” Yuuri says. “Can we sit somewhere.”

And that obviously is a mistake, Yuuri realises, because as soon as they sit down, Phichit gets to the crux of their late-night skype sessions:

“Yuuri, where _are_ you staying at now?”

He can’t run away from this – for one, he’s kind of really out of breath right now, “Um.”

“Yuuri.”

Yuuri shuts his eyes, and grits, “I’m currently renting a place from Airbnb. Apartment.”

“Oh my god,” Phichit says, somewhere to his left. “Yuuri. You didn’t… tell them? Your parents.”

“I,” Yuuri starts to say. “I left them a message.”

“Yuuri,” Phichit is slightly angrier now. “How long have you been in US?”

“Two days.” He feels an urge to sneeze now. “Look, I’m working something out, okay?”

“You can’t just _run_ –”

“Well, I’ve done that now, haven’t I?” Yuuri says, too loudly.

Phichit stays silent. Yuuri doesn’t want to look at him, can’t bring himself to look at Phichit – there’s a dull burning pain in his chest, and the rest of his limbs feel numb, stricken with guilt or resentment or shame. He can’t tell. He can’t –

“Oh, Yuuri, there you are!” a cheerful silky voice exclaims. “And your friend!”

It’s Viktor. A blissfully ignorant Viktor grinning at them. “Can I borrow Yuuri for a moment, Mr…?”

“Phichit Chulanont,” Phichit informs him, trying to inject as much cheer as Viktor’s displaying.

“Mr Chulanont,” Viktor nods, and winks. “The password’s tripleaxel, in case you’re wondering. Now, Yuuri, Mdm Baranovskaya wants to meet you in her office.”

“The principal?” Phichit asks.

“Yes, Mr Chulanont,” Viktor answers, still cheerful. “Yuuri?”

Yuuri swallows, suddenly feeling constricted. He’ll breath. He’ll live. “Right, Viktor – Mr Nikiforov.”

Viktor frowns at that, but leads him away to the principal’s office.

* * *

 

If Mdm Baranovskaya is awe-inspiring from a safe distance of at least a hundred metres, she’s downright magnificent at an arm’s length. Perhaps a little too overwhelming for Yuuri, who’s still struggling to breath at a measured pace. Viktor’s hanging around in the background of the office, under the lacklustre guise of “looking for some papers”.

“So, Mr Katsuki,” Mdm Baranovskaya begins. “Your application papers are incomplete, specifically with regards to financial aid and accommodations.”

Yuuri knows there’s more. “Yes.”

“How would you prefer to explain this?”

“Um, I… I’ve got a scholarship that’s still being processed. It’s from the Figure Skaters’ Association of Detroit, but I haven’t got the full papers from them, so. There’s that. As for accommodations, I’m currently. It’s not very convenient for me to –”

“That’s the Jean-Jacques scholarship, isn’t it?” Yuuri nods, swallowing thickly. “Well, that would cover the main tuition fees up to at least eighty percent. The remaining twenty percent remain unaccounted for.”

Financial aid in the Academy is an extremely delicate matter, not to mention figure skating allowances aren’t enough to cover expenses on skates and costumes, to say the least; there just isn’t enough funding for a magical school that specialises in the aesthetics. With a scholarship coverage of eighty percent, Yuuri’s pretty much out of the queue for obtaining financial aid from the Academy.

“I, um, I’ll work for it,” Yuuri says blandly. “I’m, I’ve got a temporary job outside.”

He’s not really lying at this point – the rink job hasn’t exactly accepted him, but given his aptitude and experience with skating, they don’t have an excuse to deny him.

Mdm Baranovskaya nods. “As for accommodations, Mr Katsuki?”

Yuuri shuffles in his seat. “I, um. I’m renting an apartment. From Airbnb, at the moment.”

“I presume that’s not a lasting arrangement,” Mdm Baranovskaya says.

“For the next month or so,” Yuuri says, mouth suddenly dry.

“He could stay in one of the campuses’ houses. I hear Yurio needs a roommate,” Viktor supplies helpfully.

Yuuri swivels to look at Viktor, who is smiling pleasantly at Mdm Baranovskaya.

“Yurio?” Mdm Baranovskaya says, unfazed. “Ah. Mr Plisetsky. I do not remember a request similar to that.”

But Yuuri knows it’s too much trouble, and he knows that accommodation on-campus requires some sort of pre-arranged polling, or at least a form of scholarship.

“It’s the Jean-Jacques house,” Viktor says. “I’m sure, that with the Jean-Jacques scholarship, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch that accommodations can be provided for.”

Right. Of course. Yuuri wonders if Viktor’s just, in Phichit-speak, “pulling that out of his ass” right now. But Mdm Baranovskaya seems equally stoic, so maybe not.

“There will be papers, of course,” Viktor continues smoothly. “But they should take no more than three working days for approval. What do you think, Yuuri?”

“I, um, if that’s alright with the administration,” Yuuri says.

Mdm Baranovskaya considers it for a moment. “Fill in the papers by the end of the week, Mr Katsuki. For the time being, Mr Nikiforov will ensure your moving into the Jean-Jacques house.”

* * *

_PHICHIT CHULANONT_

(1036) wat happened?????????

(1036) o right ur in office

(1106) yuuri

(1106) not out huh

(1121) yuuri where r u

(1122) txt me when ur out

 

_YOU_

(1124)  Hey.

 

_PHICHIT CHULANONT_

(1124) yo my man

(1125) where u now

(1125) also r u still mad

(1125) im in starbugs chillin

 

Yuuri scrolls up and down the conversation thread. Viktor is by his side, yammering off about something. Houses, perhaps? Campus life? He can’t really be bothered to try and concentrate.

“Yuuri? What do you think?”

“Um,” Yuuri says. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening. Mr. Nikiforov.”

Viktor’s frowning again, but that’s gone in a flash when he perks up and says, “Right, Yuuri! What would you like to eat? It’s nearing lunch time now, isn’t it? We can get lunch, and then we’ll go to your current residence, pack, and then come back to campus –”

Yuuri’s protesting immediately, much to his own horror, “No, no, that’s – I’m meeting a friend for lunch, and I don’t want to trouble you.”

Viktor’s face falls, and Yuuri feels a sinking pit in his stomach – but really, he’d rather leave his living quarters (though he’s only settled in for, what, two days) private and far, far away from this living demigod. That, and he’s pretty sure that the three cups of instant ramen are still lurking next to the bedside table. He hasn’t bothered to clean up, even though all it takes is a quick cleaning spell.

“Alright then,” Viktor says.

“Thank you for your help,” Yuuri says. “It’s really. I didn’t know what to do.”

They’re at the gates. Viktor says something like, “You’re welcome” and something about having papers to mark anyway, and Yuuri lets him leave again. It takes him a full minute to realise that he’s effectively just wasted his precious interaction with his childhood idol away. Yuuri buries his face in his hands, sighing at his inadequacy. And then his phone rings again.

 

_PHICHIT CHULANONT_

(1128) everything ok?????

(1128) also like

(1129) forgive me 4 bein basic af

(1129) but do u think white choc moc frapp is better or shld i try the pumpkin spice

 

_YOU_

(1130) White Chocolate Mocha sounds okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all i can say is, gg  
> also the jj thing will be explained!! (say jean-jacques scholarship five times fast)
> 
> plan for next chapter: establishing wtf is actually happening in yuuri's life + classes!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s your type?”
> 
> Yuuri gulps. “T-type? Um.”
> 
> He isn’t sure if there’s a right answer when the object of his decades’ old pining is right in front of him. Viktor’s eyes are very, very blue, and extremely compelling. Yuuri doesn’t miss the way Viktor’s hand is now resting on his own. There’s something warm about it, and there’s also the fact that Viktor’s got a very nice hand. Nice, long fingers. And the knuckles- and the veins that stretch out so prettily underneath his pale skin.
> 
> “Your type, Yuuri,” Viktor says, drawing Yuuri’s attention up to his face again. “Your element.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip what re holidays but days to write fanfic and draw fanart etc like honestly  
> also i lied!!! oh no i said i was gonna talk about classes this chapter but the chapter is 2.9K words long and it doesn't feel right to add it to this chapter hahaa  
> also a bit of otayuri for y'all idk what the fuss is about mila and beka tho lel  
> anyway happy soon-to-be new year's hahaha im ready for all the newyear countdown fics lmao hit me up

The evening happens by way of a three-act tragedy:

  1. Yurio is confused when Yuuri enters the house, luggage in tow. The teen is in a hoodie and shorts, caught in a particularly exhilarating game of Wii Tennis with a stoic young man.
  2. Yurio is fucking livid when a cheerful Viktor pops up behind Yuuri. Viktor, ignoring the rage and abuse hurled at him, calmly explains the situation.
  3. Yurio has locked himself up in the room. Viktor is sporting a bruised nose.



“ _Episkey_ ,” Yuuri says, “oh, shit, um, _episkey_! So, um.”

Viktor shrugs, wincing at the sting of an improperly cast spell. “That’s Yurio for you.”

“Sorry. Here,” Yuuri hands him a freshly boiled egg. “It’ll probably help with the bruising. I don’t think the wii controller was heavy enough to cause any damage, but –”

“Bruising?” Viktor wails, suddenly defeated. “Oh my god, bruising. My face is ruined.”

“Viktor, I don’t think,” Yuuri starts to say, stumbling for words. “I mean, it’s not, you’re still. Your face is still good. You look good.”

Viktor emerges from his arms, “Really?”

Yuuri nods. “Yes. It’ll be fine after the swelling –”

“Swelling?!” Viktor buries his head in his forearms, and wails again.

“Don’t press against it,” Yuuri chides. “Um. Um. Viktor, you have to use the egg and rub it against the skin, just in case –”

 “Yuuri,” Viktor says, with a defeated tone. “Yuuri, I can’t recover from this.”

“Umm,” Yuuri says, at a loss, until a sudden brainwave hits him. “You can!”

“I can?”

Yuuri would have laughed at anyone who told him that he would be comforting The Viktor Nikiforov at such close quarters. “Y-yes, yes. It’s, I mean, it adds to your totally cool and mysterious persona, because girls like the kind of roughed-up bad boy look, and um! Yes!”

Viktor glances up at him, and Yuuri’s certain he’s just sounded absolutely absurd, when Viktor says, “Really.”

“Really.”

“Do you like the roughed-up bad boy look?”

Yuuri can’t believe Viktor is taking this seriously. But for the sake of peace, he swallows, and says, “Yes. It’s cool. _Very_ cool.”

And then, everything’s alright. Viktor’s beaming again, obediently rubbing the egg on his skin. “Then that’s fine!”

“It is?” Yuuri catches himself, and adds, “it is. Of course. Yes. Definitely.”

Viktor crinkles his nose, and while Yuuri’s ready to _disappear from existence_ at the pure adorableness of this movement, he’s also ready to stab himself with his skates at the embarrassment of getting everything wrong, especially in front of Viktor. “Yuuri.”

“Y-yes!”

“What’s your type?”

Yuuri gulps. “T-type? Um.”

He isn’t sure if there’s a right answer when the object of his decades’ old pining is right in front of him. Viktor’s eyes are very, very blue, and extremely compelling. Yuuri doesn’t miss the way Viktor’s hand is now resting on his own. There’s something warm about it, and there’s also the fact that Viktor’s got a very nice hand. Nice, long fingers. And the knuckles- and the _veins_ that stretch out so prettily underneath his pale skin.

“Your type, Yuuri,” Viktor says, drawing Yuuri’s attention up to his face again. “Your element.”

“He’s definitely an Earth,” Yurio says from the door frame. “Look at that piggish build.”

Yuuri jumps, face flushed. He barely remembers to breathe again. “I’m an Earth.”

“Hm,” Viktor considers. “That’s good. Yurio’s a Fire type.”

Yurio rolls his eyes. “Otabek’s an Earth too.”

“Otabek?” Yuuri asks, but Yurio waves him off.

“Anyway, Viktor,” Yurio plunges on. “Minako’s on the line.”

Viktor excuses himself from the kitchen, and makes his way into the living room. Yurio spares Yuuri a glance, and Yuuri instinctively hunches, turning away to dispose of the boiled water in the pot. There’s a brief moment of silence, and Yuuri thinks Yurio’s gone when he hears:

“I’ll move your things into your room. First left when you go upstairs. Get changed already.” And then, for good measure, “you’re beginning to stink.”

* * *

 

Yuuri’s just changed, and the lightness of his sleepwear makes it easier to breathe. And to think, now that he’s got the time. He didn’t talk much with Phichit, that afternoon, and he didn’t apologise. A small ball of guilt lodges itself in his chest – he should really, really change his prescription or something. Or at least, apologise for now. It’s not easy, he knows, and besides, Phichit doesn’t seem to mind. It would be easier to let things lie where they may.

His laptop is turned on, and sits observantly in front of him. Skype’s just setting up automatically, and there’re at least ten missed calls from his parents, as well as a few dozen messages from his mother and his sister. Yuuri sighs, and lies back on his bed.

He didn’t think he’d actually do it – do _this_. The acceptance letter came, and sat around in his desk’s drawer for at least two months before he suddenly booked a flight to the States, arranged for a temporary accommodation, wrote in to Mdm Baranovskaya about his delayed confirmation. He doesn’t know how he managed to get all of that done within a matter of seven hours. Somehow, things happened, and the next thing he knew, he was in Detroit.

Yuuri stares at the ceiling, tightening his hold on his bed sheets. It’s not like he doesn’t want this, but he’s also uncertain if this was the right move, so to speak – he’s throwing away things at home, throwing away people’s expectations of him as a future architect (his own expectations, too – Yuuri’s got an eye for dynamics, for structures that’s been constantly praised by his teachers). But he knew he loved skating, and after Vicchan died. It seemed like it was _right_ to just go. Maybe it’s the first time he’s been so reckless, so thoroughly irresponsible, and he knows it’s wrong to worry his parents like this, but.

There’s no regret in this. Yuuri can’t say that he regrets this, or wishes he could be back in Japan, freshly graduated from Mahoutokoro, ready to pursue architecture in Shanghai’s Institute of Living Geography. After all, Figure Skating – Ice Dancing, if that’s what they call it here – is something he’s lived with for all his life; and skating alongside Viktor Nikiforov has been his dream since grade school.

But Figure Skating isn’t exactly a lasting career option – there are two ways this could go: he lives a short and unglamorous life skating competitively before he returns to ‘reality’ and takes up a proper, conducive job, or take up the role of a Shrine Ice Dancer, entertaining the gods until his death. The first sounds too plausible, and makes figure skating sound a lot less proper than it really is. The second, well, dancing on ice for an eternity for the gods isn’t a commitment he’s ready to make, exactly. And even applying for a Shrine Ice Dancer requires a good deal of paperwork and rounds of interviews with the Ministry of Magic in Japan, given how it’s a direct form of communication between mortals and actual gods.

He’s not even _that_ good.

Everyone knows that – which is why, it’s so stupid that he even applied for the Academy in the first place. Does he even want to be in the Academy? Does he even love figure skating that much? Maybe he was making a stupid decision under the pressure of commitment, and the loss of Vicchan.

Yuuri exhales slowly again, and feels his chest contort. Vicchan. He misses him so much. He misses home so much. Yuuri rolls on his side, and tries to squash his chest into submission, binding himself so tightly he can’t breathe for it to hurt.

* * *

 

Yuuri wakes up early the next day. At six fifty, he’s just finished his shower after a morning run. Instead of packing for classes, he’s lazing in bed, scrolling through social media. Phichit’s uploaded their selfie, and Yuuri notes with a sense of finality that Mari’s already liked it. As Yuuri places his phone on the bed, it rings.

 

_REMINDER_

(0700) Take prescription pills.

 

_TEN NEW MESSAGES_

_PHICHIT CHULANONT_

(0700) MORNIGNNNNNNNN

(0700) oops i mean morning

(0700) cant type to loud

(0700) too*

 (0701) u kno

(0701) ur sis liked my pic

(0701) js

(0701) u might wanna talk abt it ykno

(0701) soon

(0701) ish

 

_YOU_

(0703) Morning, Phichit.

 

Yuuri sighs, and sets a proper reminder for the night:

_NEW REMINDER SETTINGS_

2000 – Talk to parents.

_no snooze setting_

_cancel / **enter**_

* * *

 

When Yuuri finally gets out of bed, he’s summoned by the call of sizzling eggs and cheese. He makes his way down, only to see the same young man from last night cooking.

“Morning,” Yuuri says. “You must be Otabek?”

“Yes,” the man replies. “You are Katsuki Yuuri.”

Yuuri nods, “Yes. Did Viktor tell you –?”

“No, Yuri did.” And then, while Yuuri’s taking that bit of information in, he deadpans, “Yurio did, I mean.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says. “That’s nice. You’re an Earth type too, right?”

“Yes.” Otabek scrapes the sunny side up off the pan and onto the plate. “Eggs?”

“Sure, thank you,” Yuuri says.

The rest of the morning is spent in relative silence while Otabek and Yuuri eat.  Yuuri absentmindedly checks his phone.

 

_YUKO FROM RINK_

(0730) Hello, Yuuri! It’s Yuko here. I know it’s a pretty late notice, but will you be able to start work this afternoon?

 

_YOU_

(0731) Yes, that will work. Thank you.

 

And then, as an afterthought, Yuuri adds:

 

_YOU_

(0731) :-)

 

_YUKO FROM RINK_

(0732) ;)

 

“Yurio talks about you,” Otabek suddenly says, getting up to clear his plate. “Viktor too, actually.”

“Oh, um,” Yuuri says, in default. “That’s. Great?”

“Mahoukotoro,” Otabek says, surprisingly chatty.

“Mahoukotoro,” Yuuri echoes. “Yes, that’s where I went to school. Otabek, what about -?”

“The World’s Championship of 2010,” Otabek says, and turns back to face Yuuri, “was held at Mahoukotoro, Japan.”

“Um,” is all Yuuri can say, when Otabek stares right through him. “I think I was too young to qualify then. To be honest, I don’t remember much of it. Were you there?”

Otabek is steely silent, a thoughtful statue looking right at Yuuri. Yuuri flinches at the intensity of the look levelled upon him, but tries his best to hold it. His stoic flatmate doesn’t so much as move an inch, but Yuuri can _feel_ well-restrained disappointment rolling off Otabek in waves. There’s something about the way he’s gripping the countertop, the way his jaw is clenched, then relaxed, as though wanting to say something.

The moment is broken when Yurio marches into the kitchen, reeking of grumpiness and positively burning orange. Otabek makes way for him as he stalks towards the coffee machine, and punches in a few buttons. Even Yuuri knows to wait till he’s had his first gulp of the brown addictive before greeting him.

“Good morning,” Yuuri says, remembering to leave the newly-awarded nickname out of the picture.

“Hm,” Yurio grunts back, and takes a seat at the table, where Otabek rubs his shoulders. “Morning, Beka.”

“Morning, Yurio,” Otabek says softly, and Yuuri tenses up, unsure of the shitstorm that Otabek might have just stirred.

But Yurio is content, his disgruntled expression melting into something more malleable. Like satisfaction. Or something similar. Yuuri tilts his head at the vaguely domestic scene, before the warning bells went off in his head – he excuses himself from the private setting, blushing.

“What were you talking about, Beka?”

To Yuuri’s surprise, Otabek replies with a single, “Nothing.”

* * *

 

Yuuri reaches the rink exactly five minutes after noon. It’s an indoors skating rink with high ceilings and large windows. He’s itching to get on the ice, his normal skates restless in his bag. A girl with normal brown hair greets him, and by her accent, he knows they’re both from the same hometown – Hasetsu.

“I’m Nishigori Yuuko,” Yuuko reintroduces herself. “But since we’re in America, you might as well just call me Yuuko.”

“Katsuki Yuuri,” Yuuri says. “Please guide me along.”

“It’s pretty simple,” Yuuko says, and plunges into an academic, clinical explanation of administrative duties to be accomplished at the rink.

Yuuri nods patiently, committing her words to memory. That is, until, Yuuko pauses, “Actually… unless, you’d like to coach children.”

“W-what?”

“Coach. Children,” Yuuko says, a twinkle of something in her eyes. “I mean, sure, we’ve got skating-aids, but, seeing as you’ve had experience with figure skating…”

“I- I can’t possibly,” Yuuri protests weakly.

Yuuko regards him with a teasing look, but when she speaks, her tone is serious, “Well, until you change your mind, you’ll be stuck with basic registration duties! Your trial-shift ends at six; after that we can decide which schedule you’ll be able to take.”

Part of him regrets rejecting the offer – sure, he’s good with handling people (and their emotions, more specifically), and he’s not disliked by children, generally, but coaching? He’s not sure he’s accomplished enough to do that yet. Yuuri’s mind flits to the thought of his own coach in Japan, Ando- _sensei_ , the one who had helped him through bouts of panic attacks, watched him grow, helped him mature into the style of ice dancing best suited for himself.

He’s not good enough. Yuuri is humble enough to admit that much.

* * *

 

He ends up glancing miserably at the skaters on ice, his own toes wriggling in anticipation. But Yuuri is professional, or at least, serious and determined to keep his word, so he puts on a big smile for the next customer.

It’s Viktor. Viktor, with a slightly red nose.

“Vik- Mr. Nikiforov,” Yuuri fumbles, a half-hearted smile wearing off and translating into surprise. “You’re here.”

Viktor smiles back, elusive as ever. “Yes, I am.”

Yuuri flushes to the roots of his hair. “Right, um. That will be five dollars for the first hour, and two for every subsequent hour. If you need to rent skates – ”

Yuuri stops himself. Viktor’s a figure skater at the Academy, why would he need to rent skates. Or actually, come here at all to skate? Some persistent thought gets to him that maybe, just maybe, Viktor’s here for _him_.

“Are you not skating, Yuuri,” Viktor says, curious.

“I’m not… allowed to, while I’m on the job,” Yuuri says. He’s not too sure exactly, but it’s better to be safe and professional.

“Ah,” Viktor says… disappointed? “What time does your shift end?”

“Six,” Yuuri says, trying to beat down the hope rising in his heart. “But it might take longer –”

Viktor nods, and Yuuri clamps up. “Two hours, and then dinner?”

“I, uh,” Yuuri says, accepting the notes that Viktor’s slid across the counter. “Two hours.”

Viktor gazes at him, patient. The look unfurls Yuuri.

“And then dinner,” Yuuri affirms.

* * *

 

Yuuri tries not to stare too hard at Viktor when he skates, but that’s clearly impossible. Everyone’s looking at this silver-haired angel with awe, admiration, and envy.

* * *

 

Dinner is not what Yuuri expects. They end up in a bar, mercifully seated at a booth towards the back. Viktor’s charming smile buys them a few extra minutes before the waitress comes to collect their orders. And that’s when the reason for Viktor’s arrival makes itself clear:

“I received a letter from the Figure Skating Association, with regards to your scholarship,” Viktor says, sliding the envelope across the table.  “ _Muffliato.”_

“Yes,” Yuuri says carelessly, opening the envelope. “Ah.”

“I made sure not to open it without your permission,” Viktor adds.

“Thank you.”

_1 st November 2016_

_Yuuri Katsuki_

_House of Jean-Jacques Leroy_

_63 rd Millennia Street_

 

_APPLICATION FOR ACCOMMODATION AND STUDENT LOAN_

_Dear Mr. Katsuki,_

_We have received your application for accommodation at the House of Jean-Jacques Leroy. You will be delighted to find that after a review by the scholarship board, we have allowed your unconditional boarding at the House of Jean-Jacques Leroy for the rest of your schooling term at the Academy of Arcane Aesthetics._

_With regards to your application for student loans to finance the remaining 20% of schooling fees, we have received great recommendation courtesy of Mr. Viktor Nikiforov, Ms. Minako Okukawa, as well as Principal Mdm Lillia Baranovskaya. However, seeing as this is an extremely special case, we request your presence at the Figure Skating Association (Detroit)’s Headquarters this Saturday, 4 th January, to undergo an interview._

_We hope to see you soon, and congratulate you on your acceptance into the Academy of Arcane Aesthetics._

_Best Regards,_

_Edmund J. Croaker_

_Head of Human Resources_

_Figure Skating Association (Detroit)_

_74 th Wilkma Edge_

 

“Student loans?” Yuuri echoes, re-reading the portion of the letter. “I didn’t apply for student loans.”

At this, Viktor seems to be embarrassed. “I applied on your behalf.”

Something warm blooms inside Yuuri, before he stamps it out, “Thank you, Mr. Nikiforov. I could have managed it myself. I mean, I’m thankful, but. You didn’t have to.”

Viktor doesn’t say anything, so Yuuri looks back down at his papers, and marks down the date. Some part of him is trembling, worrying over the ‘interview’, as well as the sheer possibility of him losing the entire scholarship. But Viktor’s presence reminds him not to just break down.

“You know, at the rink earlier,” Viktor says. “You looked like you wanted to skate.”

“I do,” Yuuri replies genuinely, putting the letter away. “Yuuko suggested that I coach children.”

“An interesting proposition,” Viktor notes. “Why not?”

“I’m not good enough to coach,” Yuuri says. “I like to skate, but that’s not enough.”

“Quite the contrary, I think you’d be a great teacher,” Viktor says, slyly leaning in. “How can you expect to motivate yourself, if you can’t motivate others?”

“I, um,” Yuuri says.

“Go take up the offer, Yuuri,” Viktor says, eyes softening. And then, “That’s your first assignment from your teacher.”

* * *

 

_@phichit_chuu: tfw ur bestie is not picking up his phone_

_@phichit_chuu: @yuuri-katsuki this tweet is about u!!!!_

_@phichit_chuu: #foreveralone_

_@phichit_chuu: cant believe im using stale old memes_

_@phichit_chuu: ive fucking descended_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so much tension to be exploredddddddddddd  
> also poor phichit ily bb

**Author's Note:**

> !!!! thanks for making it till the end lmao ok idk where this is going but!!! im excited. also they should have like more schools in the magic universe, just saying. also there are more characters!!! soon. soon.


End file.
